Friday, November 22, 2013

The Great Train Robbery (1979)

Easily the best movie that novelist/filmmaker
Michael Crichton ever directed—thanks to a larky story, rich cinematography,
and two vivid performances—The Great
Train Robbery is an old-fashioned escapist adventure. Set in
late-19th-century England, the movie concerns gentleman crook Edward (Sean
Connery), who travels in high-society circles while cruising for possible
schemes. One day, Edward learns the particulars about a regular gold shipment
transported by the British government to cover military expenses. Excited at
the prospect of being the first person to ever rob a moving train, Edward
enlists cronies including femme fatale Miriam (Lesley-Anne Down) and pickpocket
John (Donald Sutherland). Over the course of several months, Edward’s team
tracks down and copies the four keys needed to open the locked train safe in
which the gold is stored during transit. Concurrently, Edward contrives an
outlandish method for getting onto the train undetected. When unexpected
complications arise, Edward’s gang responds with imagination and verve.

Crichton, who adapted the screenplay from his own novel of the same name, based
the story on a real event. As a result, the narrative has the flavor of
authenticity even though the tone is strictly lighthearted. Better still, Crichton
stays laser-focused on the fun of depicting a seemingly impossible heist,
rather than getting bogged down in contrived plotting and/or iffy
characterization (two conundrums that permeate Crichton’s wholly original
stories). That’s not to say The Great
Train Robbery is flawless; quite to the contrary, the movie drags in the
middle and contains several passages of stilted dialogue, such as Crichton’s
weak attempts at double entendre-laden romantic patter. Nonetheless, the
virtues of The Great Train Robbery outweigh
the shortcomings. First and foremost, the movie looks gorgeous. Employing his
signature deep-focus compositions and haze filters, cinematographer Geoffrey Unsworth
creates a look that seems as if it’s illuminated by the gas lamps of the
story’s historical period. Fantastic costuming and production design complete
the intoxicating illusion of Unsworth’s imagery.

Leading man Connery, ever
comfortable in the role of the handsome rascal, sells the effervescent aspects
of his characterization with a grace reminiscent of Cary Grant, and he
underlines the physicality of the character with impressive stunt work on
moving trains. Sutherland provides a terrific foil, opting for eccentric whining
as a contrast to Connery’s unflappable poise; with his mutton-chop sideburns
and scowling expressions, Sutherland approaches but safely avoids camp. Leading
lady Down is more beguiling than interesting—while her work
in The Great Train Robbery is
competent, all she’s really asked to do is look seductive. It’s true that The Great Train Robbery is a bit windy
at 110 minutes, although the painstaking approach pays off with such long
scenes as the nighttime break-in at a train-depot office. However, with expert
composer Jerry Goldsmith’s rousing music pushing things along, The Great Train Robbery snaps back into
shape for a bravura finish.